


Him

by slashy (slashmyheartandhopetoporn)



Series: New World [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few bites--and it really is very good falafel--Karen says, “So why didn’t you call?”</p><p>Frank swallows and wipes his lips. “Don’t you like surprises?”</p><p>“You know, not lately.”</p><p>(a.k.a. I needed to write some follow-up fluff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Him

**Author's Note:**

> you don't need to have read "Her" but it helps.

When Karen sees Frank again three weeks later, he’s sitting on her stoop, and he comes bearing falafel.

“I thought we talked about this,” she says.

Frank shrugs. “I didn’t go in. Though it would have been easy. You need new locks.”

Karen nods and looks Frank in the eye. “Yeah, some asshole keeps breaking them.”

Frank scowls. “I would never.”

She sits beside him on the stoop, their knees knocking together, and reaches for the takeout bag. She roots around until her hand finds pita. It smells divine. She hands the sandwich to Frank before diving in for the other. She finds a thing of french fries too. She lifts them out and raises an eyebrow at Frank.

“Don’t give me that look,” Frank says, snatching the fries. “You have to stick them in the sandwich and eat it like that.” He demonstrates the technique, but Karen remains unimpressed. “I’m telling you,” Frank continues. “That’s the way they do it over there.”

Karen follows Frank’s example, then tops the whole deal with hummus. “I don’t like tzatziki” she says when Frank gives her the side-eye. He puts out a hand, and Karen gives him the extra container wordlessly.

“Works for me.”

After a few bites--and it really is very good falafel--Karen says, “So why didn’t you call?”

Frank swallows and wipes his lips. “Don’t you like surprises?”

“You know, not lately.”

Frank sighs. “I didn’t really think about it. Wanted falafel and figured you’d be home soon.” He pauses to drink from his ever-present coffee thermos. “Plus I still kind of felt like I owed you for the other day.”

Of course Frank would describe three weeks ago as _the other day_. Karen swallows around the lump of fries in her throat and gestures for the coffee. Frank hands her the cup without pause.

“You don’t owe me for anything,” Karen says after she drinks. “Also that coffee is _godawful_.”

Frank chuckles. “I know it.”

“You want to come up for something better?”

The moment the words leave Karen’s mouth, she regrets them. They sound like such a line, even though she doesn’t mean them that way. Frank looks away from her like he knows it. Then he crumples up their trash and clears his throat.

“Yeah, okay.”

 

\--

 

Karen’s apartment is only moderately messy, and she’s never been happier to have done the dishes. She gestures for Frank to sit at the dining table and then heads for the coffee pot.

“This cake?” Frank asks, and when Karen turns she sees him pointing to the bundt cake sitting covered on the table.

“Yeah,” she says. “You want some?”

“You make it?”

“I did.”

Frank nods. “Then I’ll take some.”

Once she sets the coffee brewing, Karen gets out two plates, two forks, and one knife. She sets them all on the table and then goes back for two cups. “Hope you like lemon,” she says as she returns and takes off the dome. She watches Frank watch her hand as the knife slides through the cake. He isn’t subtle.

Frank licks his lips. “You know me.”

Karen puts a slice of cake on Frank’s plate. “You’re not picky.”

The coffee pot beeps to announce it’s finished, and Karen takes the pot from its station and brings it to the table. She fills a cup for each of them and then takes a seat.

“My girl used to have one of those kid ovens. The pink ones,” Frank says as he eats the cake.

“An Easy-Bake?”

“That’s the one. Only ever baked up shit--she was no better at baking than her mother--but we all ate it anyway.”

Karen laughs. “I had one of those too.”

“You ever make anything good with it?”

“Probably not?”

Frank shakes his head, but there’s a smile sitting faintly on his lips. “Waste of my fucking money. But it made her happy.” He looks down at the bundt cake. “This is good, though. I’m guessing you didn’t make it in a goddamn Easy-Bake.”

“No, but I have to say the oven that came with this place isn’t much better.”

Frank takes a look around. “Yeah, it’s kind of a shithole.”

“Hey,” Karen says, playing at offended. “Only I get to talk shit about my apartment.”

Frank shrugs. “I’m just saying. ‘Apartment’ is kind of a generous word. The bullet holes don’t help.”

Karen steals a bite off Frank’s plate and is pleased when he frowns in irritation. “What do you know about decorating?” she says after she swallows. “You probably live in the sewers now.”

Frank takes a forkful of Karen’s cake in retaliation. “If you’re trying to trick me into telling you where I live, it ain’t going to work. I’m not the smartest but I ain’t the dumbest either.”

“Will you at least tell me where you got the falafel? I might want more.”

Frank gives Karen a stern look. “You want more, you tell me. Don’t you go digging.”

Karen puts on a considering expression. “I don’t know...sounds like kind of a fun investigation. Trying to find the best falafel joint in Manhattan isn’t the worst way I could spend my time.”

“That the kind of shit they pay you for at the Bulletin?”

Karen rolls her eyes. “Like I wouldn’t do that work for free.”

The silence that descends in comfortable and easy. Karen eats her cake and watches Frank push his crumbs around his plate with his fork. She refills Frank’s coffee without asking, and enjoys the simple pleasure of having anticipated what he would want and being right about it.

Eventually Frank smushes a cake crumb against the tip of his index finger and then brings it to his lips. “How my lawyers doing?” he asks.

Karen sighs, a heavy sound. She hates the way her relationship with Foggy has changed, and she’s still on terribly uneven footing with Matt. “They’re not your lawyers anymore,” she answers. Then adds, “And one of them isn’t a lawyer at all these days.” Frank nods, and he doesn’t seem particularly surprised. Karen frowns, suspicious. “This doesn’t seem to be news to you.”

Frank smushes another crumb. “Funny thing,” he says after he licks his finger. “Back when all this shit was still just starting to get moving, I had a couple of talks with Red.”

“Red?"

“You know, the Devil. Guy in the red long johns and the stupid helmet.”

Karen can’t help but scoff at the description.

“So we had a few heart-to-hearts. If you didn’t know, he’s kind of a talker.” Here Frank pulls a face and rolls his eyes, and Karen’s scoff turns to a small smile. “Okay, so my point is, we’ve talked. For like, a good half an hour all together probably. And I got good ears on me—”

“They’re certainly big enough.”

“Uncalled for, ma’am,” Frank retorts, but there’s a playful edge to his tone. “So I got a good set on me, right? And I’ve got a good handle on Red’s voice.”

Karen feels her heartbeat speed up and thump loudly in her chest. She has a feeling she knows exactly where this is going. She clutches her coffee cup tightly.

“Now, imagine you’re in court. In fact, you’re getting ready to do something really stupid.”

Karen huffs. “Like take the stand?”

Frank nods. “Exactly like that. And even stupider, you’re getting ready to totally fuck everything up. On purpose.”

“That would be pretty stupid,” Karen agrees.

“So I’m getting ready to blow shit sky high, and I’m even a little nervous about it—”

“Because it’s a really fucking stupid thing to do.”

“Right. Probably the dumbest thing I ever did besides joining the goddamn marines.” Frank waves his hand. “But that’s a story for another day.”

Karen’s breath hitches. _Kandahar_.

“And I’m sitting on the stand, waiting to pull my stunt, when my dick lawyer who’s never even fucking met me before, opens his big fat mouth.”

“Frank,” Karen says, but she isn’t sure what exactly it is she wants to say. Frank talks over her anyway.

“And imagine my fucking shock when it’s _Red’s_ voice that comes out of this blind asshole. Bowled me the fuck over.”

Karen’s frozen and unable to speak. She has no idea how to respond to Frank’s admission. She stares at him in a panic, though she can’t really tell why she’s so anxious.

Frank only shrugs. “So yeah. It ain’t news to me that Matt Murdock gave up lawyering so he could spend all his time being a pain in my ass.”

Finally Karen clears her throat and says, “I don’t think making your life miserable is his priority.”

Frank doesn’t look like he believes it. “You’re in love with him. You would say that.”

“I’m not—I’m not _in love_ with him.”

“You’re in _something_ with him.”

“How did you even know that I knew about him?”

Frank looks at Karen like she’s stupid. “I guessed. It wasn’t hard.”

“Great,” she mutters. It sours Karen’s mood, because Frank seems to have assumed Karen knew about Matt even back during his trial. As if Matt had trusted her enough back then. Another lie, she supposes, that Matthew Murdock told her.

“Look, I’m not going to do anything with that information. I’m just trying to let you know that I know a little about what’s going on here. I’m not saying I want to, but talking about this shit doesn’t have to be off the table.”

Karen looks at Frank sharply. “I don’t want to talk about Matt. I don’t want to talk about Daredevil. I don’t want to talk about Wilson Fisk or the NYPD or the DA’s office. I don’t want to talk about any of the fucked up shit that’s tried to ruin my life since I moved to this awful city.”

“What about the Punisher?”

“You’re not the Punisher.”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Come on, Karen.”

“You’re not,” she insists. “Not to me. To me you’re just Frank.”

 _I need you to be just Frank_.

She lowers her eyes then. Karen knows trying to keep Frank and the Punisher separate isn’t going to work for long. Isn’t working now, if she’s being honest. And to assert that she’s managing it straight to Frank’s face is a bald-faced lie, and Frank probably knows it. But still, she wants Frank to know that in most ways, he is still _Frank_ to her. That when she sees him, she does see the Punisher, but she sees Frank first.

Frank opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he opens it once more. “I appreciate you saying that. Really, I do.”  His voice is perhaps the most tender that Karen’s ever heard it. She feels almost wounded by the tone.

“I’m not trying to say that you can’t talk about the things you might need to talk about with me,” Karen says carefully. She looks at Frank pointedly. “For whatever reason. I’m just saying, please don’t think that when we’re talking about food or interior design or your family, I’m sitting here silently hoping you’ll mention Daredevil or something else related to the shit that got us here.” She’s worried she’s not expressing herself well, that Frank isn’t understanding what she’s trying to say. He watches her struggle for words patiently, but he doesn’t offer to help, like he doesn’t know exactly where she’s trying to go.

“I’m just trying to say…if we need to talk about something, then we need to. But I _like_ talking about nothing with you. Because it’s not nothing to me.” Karen feels her cheeks blush with a vengeance, and she decides to stop while she’s ahead.

Frank nods once. “Okay. If we’re being honest, than I have something I want to say, too.”

Karen’s throat tightens.

“I was really hoping for another piece of cake.”

Her surprised laugh comes out as more of a squawk, and Frank’s eyes widen.

“Don’t say a word,” Karen says quickly. “I won’t be judged in my own home.”

“What if I already judged the home?”

“Do you want that other piece of cake or not?”

Frank’s hands go up in surrender. “Don’t take this out on the cake. I’m shutting up.”

“Atta boy,” she says as she cuts another piece for Frank.

He eats quietly while Karen sips her coffee. The weather's finally starting to break, so she has all the windows open, and outside she listens to the sound of traffic and a few yelling children caught in the throes of an intense game of basketball. The truth is, she doesn’t feel so coldly towards Hell’s Kitchen anymore, despite everything it’s done to her. One of her many secret truths.

“So,” Frank says after he’s finished half the cake. His voice startles Karen out of her thoughts, and her eyes snap back from the window to Frank.

“So what?” she asks.

Frank spears another bite with his fork. “How do you feel about dogs?”

**Author's Note:**

> omg okay so i TOTALLY forgot matt meets frank briefly in the hospital. let's just pretend he didn't, yeah? sorry y'all.


End file.
